


Polaris

by FavorsTheFoolish



Series: Children of the Sun [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FavorsTheFoolish/pseuds/FavorsTheFoolish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Stuart look out for each other, but they still have back-up plans, in case of an emergency.</p><p>Over here if you prefer tumblr: http://leastlikelyto.tumblr.com/post/64434862669/polaris-posts-this-and-runs-away-and-hides-some-more</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polaris

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Incest, twincest, non-con, somnophilia, possessiveness, suggestions of an abusive relationship, OC: (ish. Fanon? The really pervy half of fandom?) Stiles’ Twin.
> 
> Completely not beta’d. Very much inspired by hushlittlewolf’s posts about Twinlinski on Tumblr.

[Area code 707- Thing 1: Need you. Get here.]

So Derek got there. 

Derek got there and the door opened, and Stuart stood on the other side with Stiles’ phone in his hand. Wanting to punch Stuart in the face was pretty much Derek’s default state, but being texted by him from Stiles’ phone made that feeling all shiny and new again, and Derek might have followed through if he hadn’t heard Stiles’ heartbeat. Each beat took too long, a slow squeeze rather than a firm thud, sounding way too far away to be just upstairs. It was wrong enough that when Stuart walked back into the apartment the brothers shared, Derek followed, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Stiles was laid out on the floor of the second of the two bedrooms, every limb as far from his body as it would go, fingers loose. His chest rose and fell almost too slowly to detect, even slower than his heart. Derek clung to Stiles’ heartbeat as he took in details: Face up, naked, inside two circles drawn on the floor, the inner one filled with more runes that seemed to flow up from the boards onto his skin and back down again. Derek recognized the handwriting, if not the language, of the writing across Stiles’ skin as Stuart’s, and immediately fisted his hand in Stuart’s shirt and pinned him to the wall.

"What did you do to him?" Derek snarled.

"He did it to himself, asshole, " Stuart spat at him, flipping instantly from tense to enraged at Derek’s suggestion that he could possibly be responsible for something bad happening to his brother. Derek grabbed Stuart’s left hand, still stained purple-black with whatever the fuck he’d used to write on Stiles and shoved it in his face.

"He had help!" Derek snapped. Stuart shifted his gaze away like the little sociopath Derek suspected him of being. "What were you trying to do?"

Stuart was silent until Derek shook him again, hitching him a little higher on his toes with a painful scrape against the tastefully exposed brick.

"He’s trying to talk to dead people," Stuart muttered through gritted teeth. Derek would have laughed if there’d been a ouija board or a crystal ball but there wasn’t, and he dropped Stuart. 

“Who?” Derek demanded, and Stuart rolled his eyes, yanking the hem of his shirt back down.

“The Darach. Boyd. Erica. Heather. Our mom. I can keep going if you want.”

Derek said nothing as Stuart gingerly stepped over the boundaries of the circle. 

"He put together the spell himself, so it’s not like we can just crack open a book," Stuart continued, picking up speed as the wall he’d put up to conceal his worry started eroding. "You know how his head works. He needed help getting under, but he was supposed to come back on his own when the stupid fucking joy-buzzer he had on a timer went off. I don’t know why he keeps putting all this Acme pop-culture Archie McPhee catalog shit into his spells, I keep telling him we’re not the fucking Weasley twins because one of them ends up dead and-"

Derek’s head snapped up, teeth bared. Stuart bared his own right back.

“How do we get him back?” Derek asked. “What was the joy-buzzer for?”

“Physical stimulus to bring his soul back to his body. ‘Pinch me, I’m dreaming,’” Stuart answered, kneeling next to Stiles and pulling it off his middle finger, throwing it against the wall. “Useless fucking—”

“And you can’t wake him,” Derek confirmed. “So you called me.”

He said it without a trace of smugness, but the absolute loathing in the expression Stuart turned on him meant that Derek might as well have done a victory dance.

“Yes and no,” Stuart gritted out. “I can’t wake him. And I called you because you’re next on the list.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, trying to focus on what Stuart was saying, but his mind and his instincts were both being tugged back to Stiles, over and over, vulnerable and so still, too still, Stiles should never be still, and when Derek looked down at him, even Stiles’ eyes were motionless behind the lids. 

“Hey!” Stuart shouted, snapping his fingers in the general direction of Derek’s face. “Are you even listening, mutt? You’re Stiles’ second emergency contact for weird stuff after me.”

“No, I’m not,” Derek said. “We never—”

“He didn’t ask you because he thought you’d say no,” Stuart interrupted, disgust making its way into his fear and loathing. “And I didn’t care because I never thought we’d need you. I tried to wake him up, but we’re the same cells, same DNA. His soul didn’t recognize my body as not being an extension of his, no matter what I did.”

No matter what rang in Derek’s head, and the ringing traveled down to settle low in his stomach and gnaw there as Derek really looked. The whole apartment always smelled like sex. Two nineteen year olds lived there, of course it would, Derek had never thought too hard about it. Derek looked at Stiles and saw how red his mouth was, a streak of lubricant on his inner thigh, a patch of drying semen on his throat that had been missed when he’d been cleaned up.

When Stuart had cleaned him up. 

“Are you fucking kidding?” Derek roared. “He’s unconscious, you sick-”

Derek abruptly stopped his rant as he tried to swipe at Stuart but hit an invisible wall.

“Mountain ash in the paint,” Stuart said, completely unconcerned with Derek’s judgment as he touched Stiles’ face, thumb pulling down his lower lip so that Stuart could feel him breathe, “just in case you hadn’t put that together.”

“What do you want?” Derek snapped, wondering if he could stomp hard enough on one of the floorboards to flip it up and break the circle. “What am I supposed to-?”

“I tried to pull him back, but… it’s hard to explain to anyone else, but we’re two parts of one thing.”

Stuart sat down in the inner of the two circles and gently lifted up Stiles’ head to rest on his thigh.

“His soul isn’t shocked back when I touch him because it knows that that’s as natural as his breathing, or his heart beating. It doesn’t register because it’s right. And it sure as hell isn’t new.”

Derek clenched his teeth so hard that he thought they might crack against each other biting back exactly how right and natural Stuart and Stiles’ relationship wasn’t, and stayed silent until Stuart explained to Derek what he actually wanted Derek to do.

“You, on the other hand,” Stuart said at last, giving Derek a once over of judgmental disgust. “You’re not even the same species.”

Derek’s gut lurched.

“You want me to-”

“Want, no, need, yes,” Stuart retorted, stroking Stiles’ hair. “If I have to let you fuck him, well…”

Stuart swallowed hard, tipping his head down so that the tip of his nose brushed Stiles’. 

“Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the people you love,” Stuart finished, and looked up at Derek again. “Take your clothes off.”

“He can’t- he’s unconscious,” Derek shook his head. 

“I’m consenting for him,” Stuart replied. “Take your clothes off.”

Derek shook his head harder, feeling for all the world that trying to get Stuart to understand the simple way things were was like trying to get someone to understand a language they didn’t know by speaking slower and louder. 

“You can’t. Just because you’re twins doesn’t mean you can—”

“Derek,” Stuart snarled. “We planned for emergencies like this. Listen to me. I am his next-of-kin, magical power of attorney, whatever the fuck you’d call this situation, and I know what he would say yes to.”

Derek stood silent. He never knew when Stuart was lying, or when Stuart just honestly believed the fucked up things that came out of his mouth. 

“You’ll never know what he’d consent to if he never wakes up. I know you want him; you’re so not subtle. So be the stupid fairy tale hero and maybe this can happen again under different circumstances.”

Derek heard Stuart lie that time. He shut his eyes and swallowed hard and reminded himself that it wouldn’t be the worst thing he’d ever done. Stuart didn’t look at him while he undressed, and Derek figured it was because Stuart didn’t care. Stiles would’ve tried to relieve the tension of the situation by at least humming some stripper music, if Stiles had been the conscious one. When the last of Derek’s clothes hit the floor, Stuart dragged a hole in the circle and let him in. 

Derek took a tentative step forward, hard but not sure what to do. Stuart glared and leaned forward, tugging Stiles’ thigh against his chest with a hand under his knee, exposing him. 

“I assumed you had a vague clue how this works; do you need a diagram?” Stuart sneered. “It’s pretty simple, just pretend he’s a sofa, or Kate Argent’s leg-”

Derek shifted partway at that, eyes, teeth, but he managed to suppress his claws and kneeled, shuffling forward and lifting the ankle of the leg Stuart held so that it rested on his shoulder. He ran his hand down Stiles’ calf, and the muscles were limp, almost beyond unconsciousness, none of the familiar twitching of Stiles’ eyes behind the lids. Derek picked up his other knee, scooting his own backwards so that it wouldn’t be so hard on Stiles’ neck and shoulders when Derek slid his hands lower and raised Stiles' hips up.

“What are you doing?” Stuart demanded. Derek ignored him, letting Stiles' legs slip off his shoulders to rest in the crooks of his elbows and ducking down. “He’s ready, he’s stretched, he doesn’t need your gross slobbery canine foreplay.”

“Shut up, Stuart,” Derek barely bothered to mutter as he nuzzled Stiles’ balls out of the way and bent lower to spread his cheeks and lick. There was no reaction at first, but when Derek’s thumbs parted Stiles’ cheeks wider and he pressed his tongue into Stiles deeply, searching for the taste of him instead of the lube, there was a thin, high whine. A quick glance at Stuart’s furious face assured Derek that it hadn’t come from him. Stuart hadn’t lied, though; Stiles was still stretched and Derek could faintly taste come inside him, and that made him so goddamned angry that he pulled his mouth away, gently lowering Stiles back onto his thighs. 

Stuart rolled his eyes.

“Finally,” he grumbled, not that he looked particularly happy. Stuart had his arms folded around Stiles’ shoulders like Derek planned to run off with him, cheek pressed to Stiles’ temple, glaring at Derek. 

“You have to let go a little,” Derek grumbled in frustration, trying to find a good angle. Stuart just glared, clinging tighter to his brother. 

Derek was beginning to wonder just how far this little codependency went. He let Stiles’ hips rest on the floor and lay on top of him, hitching one of Stiles’ legs over his shoulder again, and after a few abortive pushes and slips, Derek got lined up and thrust in slow. Stiles took a gratifying deep, deep breath in, drawing air until Derek was pressed right against him, then exhaled, and with that exhalation, Derek felt a twitch in Stiles’ thigh, thought he saw Stiles’ eyes move behind the thin skin of his eyelids. 

Derek had never been more goddamned relieved in his life, and stretched to kiss him, to better feel the change in his breathing, only to find his face shoved away.

“No,” Stuart snapped. “Do not fucking kiss him. You don’t get to have that. Just… stop acting all swoony and get to work and fuck him.”

Derek growled low in his chest, but fine. 

“I’d rather wait until he’s awake to kiss me back anyway,” Derek answered, starting a slow, deep roll with his hips as he shifted all his weight onto one arm and folded his hand around Stiles’ cock. 

“That’s not going to happen,” Stuart shook his head. “Not ever. Christ, you- harder, for chrissakes, that’s not how you make him come, that’s not what he likes!” 

Derek ignored him, feeling Stiles’ cock throb in his hand, the leg over his shoulder tensing to pull him closer, and nuzzled behind Stiles’ earlobe, breathing deep, and kissing there. 

“C’mon,” he murmured against Stiles’ artery, like the blood could take the message straight to his brain. “C’mon, Stiles, come back.” 

“Harder,” Stuart ordered. Derek wasn’t about to move his face just to glare at Stuart.

“No. I’m not going to hurt him,” Derek said instead. Stuart’s lip curled, about to unleash another tirade.

“Fuck him harder, you stupid mutt, or-”

Neither Stuart or Derek was sure which happened first, Stiles’ right hand finding its way into Derek’s hair, or Stiles’ left tangling up with Stuart’s wrapped around his shoulders. 

Stiles’ eyes opened, unfocused.

“Hey,” he said softly, then gasped as Derek pushed into him as deep as he’d go and held there for a moment, a reward for consciousness, grinding the head of his cock against his insides. Stuart stroked Stiles’ hair away from his forehead and shivered, kissing his brow and squeezing his hand.

“Hey big brother,” Stiles said, smiling. Stuart’s eyes shut tight and he sniffed, tears leaking out anyway, so he didn’t see Stiles’ gaze shift, or his pupils dilate as he looked at who else was over him.

“Hey puppy,” Stiles said softly, the hand in Derek’s hair coming to cradle his face as Derek moved once, twice, and came, Stiles following after him, come landing on his stomach and hand where he and his brother clung tight to one another. 

Stuart’s eyes snapped open at the wet heat on his wrist. Derek’s eyes opened as he slid out. 

 

They met each others’ stares, and as Stiles sighed between them, the real battle began.


End file.
